to-day, but a good breeze. Went on deck soon after seven o'clock at night. The round yellow moon shone out from under a ridge of dark clouds upon the wide, foaming waters deliciously. Still going along rapidly; only one other vessel in sight.
Saturday, March 30th.—This morning at daylight off the Isle of Wight. In sight of it for about two hours. Been dashing along gallantly all night. Myself very sick, obliged to lie down. As I lay on the bare boards of my berth, with my rolled-up bed under my head, in a hole only just roomy enough to hold the number of its inhabitants touching each other, I sought relief from my miserable sensations by thinking of those I had left behind, or anything that could distract my attention from the scene around me. I crept upon deck at 12 o'clock. The scene there was truly magnificent. As we rose and sank over the tumultuous waves of the English Channel I could not help repeating the beautiful lines of Campbell:
'Our march is on the mountain wave,
Our home is on the deep.'
Sunday, March 31st.—Came to anchor, after tacking about all night, at Plymouth. There is a Mr. Walker, from Newbold, Warwickshire, a
